Wandering Souls Got Nowhere To Go
by PrettyFrisky
Summary: "I've been wanderin' on for all these years, what I've become no one should know..." Tony is sick and tired, after a day full of failure, he'll wake up to one more. Nothing better to relieve a headache and a sore heart than one gorgeous, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, super soldier; Am I right? Rated M for upcoming chapters.
1. Visiting the Tower

Okay, I have no idea where this is coming from, and it's been a long time since I last wrote anything. So, please, inform me if it's utter complete shit. Kay? :)

P.s. It's only the first chapter. much more to come.

* * *

~o0o~

At his work table, in his vast lab was where he sat. Rich, amber liquid in a fine crystal short glass, was what he clutched in his right hand; he spared a quick glance at the file in front of him and tapped the condensation on the glass, causing droplets of water to drip lazily down it's side.

Work was the last thing on his mind.

Well, perhaps not the last, but definately not the first. Tony's mind buzzed with the events of earlier that day, there were too many god-awful mistakes to relive, especially his last mistake of the day; the reason for his trashed television and his second (out of many) glasses of scotch that currently rested in his hand. Tony had apologized so many times his jaw still kind of ached, but Pepper didn't wan't him to apologize, she said that alot. She wanted him to stop putting himself in life-threatening situations, stop making her think she's lost him every time he put that suit on. She had told him, she had said it, again and again, but he couldn't tear himself from that damn suit. He remembered she said it while they were arguing, but they both were talking over each other -Tony, trying to make her understand and be reasonable, like a mantra. Pepper wouldn't have any of it, kept shaking her head and giving him bitter smiles that didn't reach her eyes.- She told him to choose, her or the suit, and for the life of him, he couldn't remember why he hadn't chosen her.

So, she left. Tony knew he never deserved her in the first place, knew she was always too good for him, and he never stopped dreading the day that she would finally get so fed up with him about something he did, or said, or didnt do, and she would leave. He imagined it over and over again, all the different ways it could go, it never mattered why she was leaving, but she always did in his fantasies. Nothing he said would change her mind.. He just never thought he'd be so spot on.

Tony slumped back in his chair and tipped the glass to his mouth, relishing the harsh burn in his throat, to his dismay, when he next looked at his glass only two lonely ice cubes remained.

_A refill sounds like a good idea.._

Tony hoisted himself up from his chair and began to walk through the hallways of the newly revamped Stark Tow- Avengers Tower. The aforementioned Avengers have still yet to move in, but Tony made sure to keep them in mind while decorating, especially on the gym floor. The different fighting styles required different reinforcements. The thought of decor made him chuckle at Ol' Cap's expense, he made sure to stock up on materials to reinforce the punching bags. Ah, good; that should keep him distracted for a few days. A deep stab of pain reminding him of Pepper's absence stopped him short, his breath coming in rasping short pants as he was unable to catch his breath.

He swatted at the door, an irritated grunt left him as it clicked open. As he stood behind the polished oak of the bar top, a thought creeped into his mind; he thought of drinking himself into a stupor. Then, he thought of how that never proved to be useful, yet he continued to do it over and over. What if he didn't have to go through the next few weeks burying himself in his work and nameless women, unsuccessfully trying to forget how much he hates himself? Tony reached under the counter and placed a bottle of brandy topside. What if he didn't have to deal with the horrible head and heart-ache he would wake up with tomorrow morning? He brought up another bottle, this time it was tequila. What if he didn't have to wake up at all tomorrow?

That was it, he had his answer. He didn't. He was Tony Fucking Stark and he didn't have to do a damn thing he didn't want to. And he didn't want to live anymore..

He took the bottles with him upstairs, pausing for a moment in front of the bathroom door, then fished a bottle of Rozerem from the medicine cabinet before moving with long, deliberate steps toward his bedroom. Once he was in the confines of his bedroom he shut and locked the door behind him, and set everthing at the end of his bed. Tony eyed the tablet on his bedside table, picked it up, and put JARVIS on mute.

~o0o~

Steve woke with a start, he shot up -in the uncomfortable bed S.H.I.E.L.D had provided him, along with a rather plain apartment- a sheen of cold sweat on his body. A familiar nightmare danced at the edge of his memory, but it dissipated as soon as Steve fully woke and was jolted back into reality. At least this time he didn't have to reassure himself he wasn't still in 1942, well, not much.

Clambering out of bed with a yawn, Steve stripped of his nightwear as he went to the bathroom for a well-needed shower. The hot water made him shudder, not yet adjusted to the temperature, but soon the steady stream cascading over his tensed shoulders and rigid back made him relax. The hot water didn't stay hot for very long, he remembered. So, he quickly washed himself and exited the steam filled haven.

Steve got dressed into fresh socks and skivvys, pulled on a pair of blue jeans and plopped back down on the bed. What was he going to do? He glanced around the apartment warily, seeing nothing that piqued his interest. He felt cooped up and antsy, being stuck here for days, no villains to fight, no problems to solve.. Even Captain America gets bored.

Steve rolls off the mattress and tugs on a plain white t-shirt that lay in a folded pile with several other duplicates. He doesn't think about the Stark phone in his bomber jacket pocket until he's donned it on and already outside, mounted over his bike. It doesn't ring or vibrate, but he fishes it out and stares at the screen anyway. Perhaps he should visit the young Stark, he did say 'we were welcome any time', right? Any of the Avengers, and that included Steve. He looked at the time and smiled, it was around nine, one early morning surprise -well, early for Tony- for the genius billionaire coming right up.

He pulled up to the Tower in awe, still unable to get used to it's flashy grandeur, but this was Tony, it was obvious as soon as you walked through the front door.

"Good morning, Mr. Rogers. I wasn't aware Mr. Stark had scheduled any visitors today." JARVIS' perfectly clipped british accent spoke from everywhere in the foyer.

"Oh, sorry. Is it alright if I come in?" Steve asked politely, feeling embarrassed, he should've called first. Wait, how could he have done that if he still couldn't figure out how the Stark phone worked?

"Of course, sir. This is the Avengers tower now."

~o0o~

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

Tony threw the small piece of machinery across the lab, shattering into scraps where it landed. Dummy cleaned it up quietly, all noise was ear-shattering at the moment, and Tony scolded himself for destroying his work-in-progress as his head pounded in response to the loud crash.

Obviously, his piss poor suicide attempt had failed. His result was waking up in a pool of his own vomit, and a hangover that rivaled the one he had from 2002 in Vegas. Hell, he couldn't even remember any of that, only landing down in Nevada and then waking up wrapped around two male strippers with tinsel in his hair and his goatee gone.

Tony threw away his bed linens and ordered JARVIS to buy another set, black this time, before the day was out. He didn't want to be reminded of what he did, it was stupid, and he was glad no one had to find him like that. He wasn't planning on quitting drinking, hell no, but he wouldn't go that far again, it wasn't worth it. No matter how much he hated himself, that was a bad road to go down. But hey, now that he's apart of some wierd superhero squad, if he ever got that low again, he wouldn't have to do much. Just, be more reckless - if that were possible - to save someone he cared about.

Tony's scalp prickled, he could feel someone's eyes on him, so he turned in his swivel chair with narrowed eyes, with a ready glare for the intruder.

"Hey, Cap!" Tony exclaimed, abandoning his half-formed speech on trespassing in order to greet his friend heartily. They were friends, right? Tony thought so.

Steve looked too hesitant for Tony's liking, but the corners of his mouth eventually turned up into that shy smile, and those eyes make him look like a lost puppy.

Tony stood with a smile, his eyebrows raised in interest, "What can I do for ya, Captain?"

Then Steve seemed to remember that he was here for something other than to let Tony stare at him. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out the Stark phone Tony had given him. "I can't seem to figure out how this gadget works." He stared at it dejectedly, it was cute.

Like a confused child kind of cute.

Tony gestured Steve to come forward, snatching the phone from him he moved closer to the older man so they were shoulder to shoulder, holding the phone so they both could see the screen, "Funny, I thought I showed you how to use this when I gave it to you?"

Steve blushed, but Tony didn't see. "I think you'll have to dumb it down for me a bit." When Tony did look, a smile played on the blonde's lips. He looked back to the phone, nodded, and ignored the silly flutter in his chest. "Okay, well, this is the Home Screen..."

~o0o~

"But there's no buttons?" Steve asked incredulously. Okay, the technology was very advanced, he understood that now, but how does a phone not have any buttons?

"Nope, no buttons, Cap. Doesn't need any, look. Just use your finger like this, and there! Oh, crap. Hang up, hang up." Tony immideatly released Steve's finger and held his hands up innocently, but he looked panicked. Steve hurriedly tapped the red icon on the screen like Tony had showed him and hung up the call he hadn't known he was making. "What'd I do? What just happened?" Steve flushed.

Tony chuckled hysterically, "You just called Romanov, don't imagine she'll be too happy about that."

Steve paled. Oh no, what if she were in the middle of a mission? What if Steve just compromised her cover? Holy crap, he's in trouble. A clap on his shoulder makes him jump, "Ah, don't sweat it, Capsicle. You'll be fine for a few days, she's in Finland."

What's she in Finland for? Oh, he'd never be able to figure it out. Official Spy business and whatnot. Steve almost laughed at that.

"See? No worries. You know how to work the phone now?"

Steve nodded, "Yeah, I think I got it now. Thanks." He tucked the phone back in his jacket pocket and turned to Steve. "It was real nice of you, giving me this phone, offering us all a place to stay and whatnot, you know?"

Tony looked confused and surprised for a moment, but shrugged it off and said, "Well, there's obviously plenty of room to spare, and you didn't honestly think I'd let you stumble around with that hunk of plastic S.H.I.E.L.D gave you, did you?" Steve didn't feel the pressing need for a response, he chuckled and gazed at the immaculate interior that he already had expected to see as soon as he walked inside. "I see you've redecorated."

Tony smirked, "Itchin' for a tour, Cap?"

"Only if you're itchin' to give one."

Steve smiled, he could at least understand that part of Tony, Starks like to show off their toys. Tony's responding smile was one of boyish enthusiasm, his eyes seemed to twinkle as he lead them both to the gym, where he thought Steve would 'really appreciate' what he's done with it.

"I haven't reinforced them yet, but there's plenty extra in the utility room. Go ahead, you can be the first break it in. So to speak." He laughed at his own joke and gave Steve an Oh-come-on-you-know-you-want-to look, Steve shrugged and walked toward the suspended punching bag. Steve imagined the punching bag had a mind of its own and that mind chose to do hurtful things to innocent people, before bringing back his right arm, taking a few steps forward for momentum, and connecting right with its middle. Sending it flying toward the far wall, where it dropped from the iron chain that was keeping it suspended, bounced off the floor-length mirrors, and lay on the floor, plastic pellets spilling out of it pathetically.

"See, my joke was funny. God, I need to reinforce _everything _around here."

"Perks of being a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist?" Steve added in for his own laugh, remembering Tony's arrogant words. He got pinned with Tony's death stare, "Whose housing a couple of master assassins, a demigod, another genius/smashing machine, and let's not forget the world's favorite super soldier." Steve frowned.

Yeah, because it didnt matter whether he was any of those things, though he was. The reason why he had so much work to do -translation: so many things to keep him busy - is because of the team he's become a part of, and he'd like their new place of living to accomodate their varied needs. Such as reinforced _everything. _As Ol' Capsicle had just made clear.

Speaking of, why was he still frowning? Hmm, Tony contemplated on reassuring the soldier, then reckoned he should move on,

"Come on, I'll show you your room, it's the only one that's done."

Tony mentally slapped himself as he lead Steve to the upper floors where the bedrooms were. Why did he even mention that his room was the only one that was finished? Steve didn't need to know that his room was the only one he put the most thought into, and that's why it was finished first. He absolutely didn't need to know that Tony was extremely nervous as to whether he would like it or not either. God, he hoped Steve liked it.

"After you." He held his arm out in a sweeping motion, gesturing for the blonde man to enter first, it was his room after all; Steve turned the handle and pushed the door open slowly. Oh God, Tony couldn't handle this build up of anticipation, childishly, he scrunched his eyes closed, refusing to open them for anything but Steve's reaction. Also, he didn't want to see Steve's face if he didn't like it. He spent a lot of goddamned time on it.

"So? Whaddya think? Do you like it?" Tony's anxious voice carried over to him, but it was really difficult trying to answer him at the moment. The room was... He couldn't find a word to describe it, the moment he walked in he felt calm and relaxed, it reminded him of walking through the door and seeing his mom smiling after a particularly bad day at school. The soft lighting came from various inconspicuous lamps and sconces, hidden in corners or placed strategically along the walls. It was spacious and comfy, two stuffed velvety brown chairs sat at each corner adjacent to the large window on the far wall- No, it was more of a glass wall, overlooking the vast horizon of the city.- Dense, maroon curtains that raised to the ceiling and fell comfortably to the floor waited at each side of the window, ready to be drawn closed.

To his right, was a large bed fitted with beige cotton sheets and a thick, quilted chocolate brown duvet. Though it was still morning and Steve wasn't the least bit tired, he wanted to just curl up with the pillows or maybe make a blanket fort, the thought brought a smile to his face - something Tony didn't notice because his eyes were still screwed shut. Finally, there was a vintage looking chest of drawers next to a door that he guessed was to the bathroom, a nightstand on each side of the bed, and a not-so-modet flatscreen situated so it could be veiwed from the chairs and the bed. Steve turned to look at the genius, only now noticing that his eyes were closed and an irritated expression began to cross his features. Probably from not being answered soon enough.

"Tony." Steve's grin widened at the hopeful look in his chocolate orbs. "This is... Fantastic." He found himself in lack of a better word, 'the best room I could have ever imagined having' didn't seem like quite the right thing to say. To anyone. Ever. In regard to his dignity.

Tony surpressed the urge to do his victory dance and settled for a satisfied smile in the Captain's direction. "Well, that's great! Hey, uh, wanna get some take out? We could probably cram a couple decades of pop culture in you, too. How's pepperoni?" Steve didn't get a chance to respond because Tony already had his phone out and at his ear, halfway out the door, he laughed and supplied an amused nod.

~o0o~

The pizza was good, really good. They had just finished watching a movie Tony felt was the most important, and was insistent that they watch it before anything else.: Ghostbusters. The pair of them replete and comfortable, sitting on the modern white couch in the sitting room, Tony rambling off random facts about every band when they started to watch their concerts on the t.v. Only the ones he thought were worth watching. The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Grateful Dead, Led Zeppelin, and Jimi Hendrix. Steve huffed at all the information he was being given, it was a lot to take in, though the focus of tonight was mainly music from the 60's that he'd missed, it was starting to be a bit too much for him, decades of culture and influence and change, all lost to him. He missed all of that, he missed the world change. And that thought was very depressing to him that moment.  
"Steve? You alright?" Tony stopped chattering to stare at Steve, he looked visibly paler, "Have you seen a ghost? Is there a ghost in this tower? Holy Shit, we gotta find it! JARVIS!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Where are the vaccum cle-"

"Tony, stop. It's fine. No ghost." Steve laughed heartily at Tony, ecstatic that he finally understood one of Tony's movie references. Tony relaxed back into his chair, seeing as there was no immenent threat of ghosts haunting his tower, Steve idly wondered if the brunette had spiked his drink with something stronger than soda while he wasn't looking. "Then what's wrong?"

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "It's just, a lot to take in you know? All that I've missed." and he stopped, Steve didn't think they were close enough for him to be spilling his guts like some emotional dame, because he knew he'd cry if he went into detail about what's _really_ bothering him, he'd done it before, and wasn't about to do it again, not in front of Tony.

But, Tony seemed to be fishing for more, the understanding low-lidded stare, now replaced with something that made Steve realize that Tony knew there was more the fair-haired man needed to share. Question was: did he want to? Could he, even if he did? "Do you want to talk about it? Because we don't have to, you know, if you don't want to. You just looked really upset, is all." Tony offered, his eyes flicking from Steve's unyielding confused stare to his own hands, folded in his lap. Obviously he was in unfamiliar territory, that's why Steve was so confused. Why? Why does he care? He's usually so distant, mostly in regard to anyone's feelings, especially his own. So why would he want Steve to open up to him?

Steve had a feeling the man beside him wasn't very good at whatever he was trying to accomplish at the moment, so he decided to put him out of his misery.

"Tony, you don't have to do this. I-I'll get used to it, eventually."

"I don't have to do what?"

"I don't know, try and console me, I guess? I know you feel uncomfortable-"

"I'm not uncomfortable." Tony said quickly, and it was mostly true. He was a little uncomfortable, but that was only because he's never done this before, he's never had anyone who felt comfortable enough to vent to him, not even Pepper, only when they were arguing. He was a robot, like all the one's he's created, emotionally; all his sorrow and depression buried deeply behind snarky comments and sarcasm, but he wanted Steve to, he wanted Steve to be able to talk to him. He'd seen the soldier with that far-off look in his eye, deep in thought, somewhere completely different, remembering something, and he always wanted to know what that something was. Finally given the chance, he was being shut out, because Steve thinks he doesn't want to hear it. Tony just didn't know how to make Steve understand that that was far from the truth.

"I want to know. Tell me. Tell me about the good ol' days, Cap."

* * *

Okay, I know, I know. It's all fluffy and whatnot. But, I promise, it's gonna get angsty and dirty real soon. Just wait. :) R&R to enhance the experience.


	2. Goodnight Kiss

**Inspired by the song Wicked Way by Ben Taylor..**

So he did. Steve told him every good memory he could summon, filtering through the heartache and sorrow, to get to the good stuff. He would catch himself babbling and give a little embarrassed smile as the blush crept up his cheeks, Tony found it endearing. Steve rehashed memories of Bucky, his old teammate and best friend, and all the times he got him out of trouble when Steve wouldn't back down from some bully. His mom, and the look on her face when he surprised her with the birthday cake he made all by himself, which didn't turn out very good, but the surprise was well enough. And anything else that didn't end with somone dying.

Tony had listened, he hung on to every word, laughing when something was funny, gasping when he was suprised at how the story turned in a direction he wasn't expecting, because honestly, Steve was a really good storyteller. They stayed like that for hours, and when Steve ran out of stories to tell, they sat and talked about everything and nothing at all.

"Sir, I've had Mr. Rogers' vehicle moved to the parking garage. At this time of night, people tend to steal things that are left on the side of the road." JARVIS' dulcet tones cut through the bubble Tony and Steve seemed to be enclosed in.

Oh, right. Steve came by just for a visit, hadn't he? What time was it, anyway? and how long had they been sitting here? The feeling in his legs as he stood up told him a very long time, when it hadn't felt that long at all, he could've sworn that only a few hours ago they were testing out the gym. Tony stood as well, not liking the distance the Captain had inadvertently put between them, he looked at his watch then back at Steve with eyes full of feigned fatigue. "Oh, look at that. It's bedtime."

Steve nodded in agreement, it sure felt like bedtime. Tony didn't catch the "Goodnight, Tony" from Steve as he brushed past him muttering something that the blonde couldn't quite catch, but it sounded like, "Night, Steve. Good bedtime story." Then rushed up the stairs.

Steve stood there for a moment, alone in the living room, unsure of what to do. It was late, and he supposed Tony wouldn't mind if he slept here, so he made his way up the stairs to his new room. That bed looked even more inviting than it had this morning, he still couldn't comprehend how he'd been here all day, and all night, chatting it up with Tony Stark. He let out a quiet, disblieving laugh as he stripped down to his underwear and climbed into bed.

Oh, oh god, this bed, Steve suddenly felt like he had been transported into a different universe where they crafted beds from the fluffiest, softest clouds in the sky. As he layed there he noticed he felt calmer, and lighter than he'd felt in a long time, it was like a heavy weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. For a moment, he wondered whether it was the bed, gosh it was one heck of a bed, then thought better of it. It was Tony, Tony was the reason he felt this way. He felt there was a need to think about that, or dwell on it, but he was too tired, and this bed was too comfortable.

~o0o~

Steve had gone back to the S.H.I.E.L.D apartment, only to gather what little belongings he has. After saying goodbye to Tony, whose eyes looked too wired and his answering grin too manic, for the man to have had any sleep last night. Oddly, his brief encounter with Tony made him feel more guilty about having a wonderful night's rest than he'd ever been before. He wondered what the genius had opted to do while he was dozing, when he was sure he looked so tired when they departed.

~o0o~

The next morning, Natasha Romanov arrived at the Avengers tower along with Clint, both missions of theirs completed. Bruce had shown up the previous afternoon, searching for Tony to ask him if he could occupy the lab a few floors beneath him, he was met with a gruff mumble and a thumbs up in place of approval. Steve showed later, bags in hand

Naturally, the soldier and scientist met the archer and spy with warning of Tony's work binge, suggesting they keep lab disturbances to a minimum.

~o0o~

He had done something horrible, something almost as bad murdering the sweetest looking puppy in front of a four year old outside of an ice cream shop. God! What the fuck was going on with his subconsious? Huh? What the hell is so unstable inside him for him to have done something like that?

"JARVIS, playback last nights CCTV footage from the third floor again."

"Same time frame as before, sir?"

"Yes."

This would be the fourth- no fifth time he's watched this exact footage. Three windows popped up in front of him, he tapped the first window and watched himself on the video feed, in his pajamas walking down the hallway, towards Steve's room. He tapped the second window, as he was passing the bathroom, towards Steve's room. Finally, he tapped the third window, the screen dark stayed black for a while, the room shrouded in darkness until a sliver of light shone through the opened door. Tony entered his room at 3:42 a.m., the sleepwalking man stepped in and shut the door, the glow from his arc reactor illuminated the room enough so Tony could watch himself, with terrifying clarity, lean down and press his lips against the sleeping figure's own.

He exited the windows, and stood staring at the blank screen for a moment before running a hand through his unkempt hair. He knew the next time he left the tower he'd need to schedule a haircut, when's the next time he has to leave the tower? "JARVIS. What's my schedule for this week?"

"You are expected to appear at the senator's wife's charity gala Saturday evening, sir."

"... and what's today?"

"Thursday, sir."

"Right, I hate the senator's wife. Class A Ball-buster. I'm not going."

"Sorry, sir. That wouldn't be prudent, it's been marked mandatory."

Tony's never been one to so quickly agree with the A.I. unit, but he knew who had marked that schedule, he knew who made that damn schedule in the first place. And he didn't much feel like thinking about her, or mentioning her name, or anything like that, nope, no thanks, next item on the agenda: Blonde hair, blue eyes, recently been violated by yours truly; yep, back on track.

Captain America, the big puppy dog-eyed, super soldier; that Tony had somehow molested during his sleep. First, he'd like to note that Steve's a really deep sleeper. Second, _SINCE WHEN THE HELL DID HE START SLEEPWALKING?!_

_Since Steve stayed the night.._

His subconscious offered, an offer that was impetuously ignored. The question he should be worried about is whether to tell him or not, though there could be nothing more embarrassing to go through with, nothing at all. _Well..._ No, that's not important. How do you even tell someone something like that? 'Oh, yeah, hey. By the way, I wandered into your room by accident while you were sleeping and kissed you, on the lips, while you were sleeping, then went back to bed.' No. He can't do that, he wouldn't do that, it's too weird, even for them. Some things are better kept a secret.

This little secret, was going to be hard to keep, assuming that he does it while sleeping in the same building as Steve. Which, if his hearing hasn't worsened in the past 48 hours, would be tonight and every night he went to bed from now on, with three extra pairs of eyes that might witness it. Whatever the hell 'it' was, Goddamn it, Steve!

Tony began to pace.

~o0o~

"Has he eaten anything?"

Steve questioned Bruce, him having permitted access to the lab for resources and whatnot. Bruce was ordered, by the Captain, not Steve, to monitor the playboy as of last night. In that short amount of time, Steve had grown increasingly worried for his teammate's well-being, seeing as Ms. Potts wasn't here to do that particular job at the moment. "No, but there's empty coffee cups on every available surface. I've tried to get him to come out and eat breakfast, but he won't budge. He's watching something important on the monitor, because he won't take his eyes off the screen." Bruce seemed worried too, Steve believed it had something to do with their 'science buddies' thing.

That was it, whatever work he was in the middle of could easily wait, that man needed sustenance and a good nap, and Steve was dead set on making sure that's exactly what he got. He picked up the still steaming plate Clint had saved in hopes Tony might come out and eat, and left the room, calling over his shoulder, "He's gonna eat these pancakes even if I have to shove 'em down his throat."

To be honest, Steve wasn't totally against that idea. He expected a fight, and wasn't that worried about it, if it came to it he would strap him in his seat and feed him forkful after forkful like he was a toddler, though he wouldn't have to force him for very long, Clint is surprisingly a very good cook. He came to the glass door and the shades were drawn, he didn't know the passcode so he would have to knock. He rapped three times, loud and authoritative, waited a moment, then did it again. Five minutes later he still hadn't answered, so Steve unashamedly resorted to a constant, insistent banging, he'd get too irritated to not answer.

"Whaaat?! Whatissoimportant?"

"Breakfast." A little of the smug at his proven theory leaked into the stern look he was trying to hold, his lips quirking into a tiny smirk. Tony grimaced at the plate, then Steve. "Not hungry." He went to shut the door in the taller man's face, annoyed at the way his attention was gained, and at the fact that the Keep-Tony-Healthy crusade has more new members and this one showed up too early. The toe of Steve's boot was preventing it from closing all the way, Tony wanted to see if his toes were as super as the rest of him, but was promptly shoved out of the way and into a chair. He heard the door click behind him, and blue eyes caught his as a plate of pancakes slid towards him, then a fork, then a napkin. "Eat."

Tony laughed, "Wow, great tableside service, Cap! Though, I thought I ordered nothing with a side of coffee instead." The unwavering expression on Steve's face told him he would be eating these pancakes one way or another, and he didn't really have the energy to be arguing, so he picked up the fork, not before grimacing at it dejectedly, and ate his breakfast like a good little boy. Not letting it show in his expression that these were some damn good flapjacks, damn good. But, he really did want coffee.

Steve grinned, feeling accomplished, again he had expected more of a fight, but all the same, accomplished.

"Feel free to wipe that smug look off your face anytime now." Tony muttered as he wiped the syrup from the corners of his mouth, now grateful for the napkin.

"Smug? No, this is a self-satisfied smile."

"Same thing."

Steve didn't know whether to be embarrassed or annoyed, but he couldn't stop the tops of his ears turning red or the blush creeping up his neck either way. "You look tired, you should get some rest. Don't want you collapsing in the middle of a meeting. Come on, up up. Let's go." He yanked him from the chair by the scruff of his shirt and let him dangle there a second before taking hold of his bicep and dragging him in the direction of his room.

"Manhandling! This is manhandling, that's what you're doing right now. You are manhandling me, and I will scream bloody murder if you don't stop this, _stop manhandling me!_" Tony tried to yank himself from the soldiers grip, probably ending up with a dislocated shoulder as a result. "No one's coming to your rescue, Tony." he mused, trying not to think of how unsettling that must've sounded while pushing the door open. Steve pulled Tony into the room after him, only letting go of his arm once to rifle through his drawers unceremoniously until he found a clean shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Tony didn't stop him, or even point to a certain drawer so his room didn't get trashed, he just stood there, and stared while the blonde went through his belongings. Steve didn't feel like he needed to be as forceful now, so when he guided the shorter man into the bathroom, he placed his hand on the small of his back and handed him the clothes, "Change."

Tony nodded solemnly and shut the door. Sighing, Steve scratched the back of his neck, he hoped this wouldn't be an all-the-time thing, he felt like a mean babysitter. No one should have to babysit a grown man, but by any standard, Tony wasn't considered a grown man. He heard the sink running and moment later Tony reemerged from the bathroom in the pajamas Steve had picked out, looking exhausted and, he could be wrong, a little worried. "Tony, you okay?"

Tony gave a breathy laugh as he plopped down on the bed, "Yeah, just never imagined Captain America tucking me in."

Steve shook his head, making sure he didn't move nearer to the bed, the urge to actually tuck him in to make sure he went to sleep was a very strong urge to ignore. "Just making sure you don't waste away in that lab. Even a genius like you needs his rest." Tony covered up with a blanket and rested his head on the pillow, his eyes following Steve as he left the room, who shot him a pointed look before he was completely out the door.

"Sleep."


	3. Babysitting Duty

Sorry for the wait, I really hope this makes up for it. :) Inform me if you enjoy!

* * *

It's been two days. Steve hasn't had to play the role of the mean babysitter since the morning they had pancakes. Sure, he was relieved Tony was settling into a more healthy routine, one where he eats and sleeps, seeing those dark circles under his eyes fade away slowly, making his face look decidedly younger; but he also felt an unhealthy twinge of something, something odd, a feeling. Something he felt whenever he took note that a healthy Tony, is a Tony well missed indeed. Steve hadn't seen so much as a coffee breaks worth of Tony, and he'd had suspicions that the very busy billionaire scheduled his time specifically so his time spent at the Tower was minimal.

Steve had tried to visit him in his lab once or twice, but he was pretty sure that forcing your way in wasn't a route to repeat access. His suspicion was confirmed when he tried using different codes he had borrowed from Bruce, Steve stopped visiting the lab. The next day he tried his hand at texting without help from anyone, but didn't get very far, and pocketed the phone not intending to use it for a very long while. Steve wasn't very sure what troubled him so badly, he was just going to ask him if he'd like to watch a movie, try to coax him out of this seemingly anti-Steve initiative. Tony went to bed early, as soon as he came back from wherever he was, he hauled up the stairs to his room, without saying so much as 'goodnight'.

It was only eight o' clock for heaven's sake! This wasn't a Tony that Steve knew, he'd never seen him behave this way, and it was troubling. His pocket vibrated just as he fell back on the couch and cradled his head in confusion, he pulled the wretched piece of equipment from his phone, though he vowed to never do so out of frustration, and the screen read: '(1) Tony Stark'. Steve opened the text message and his brow furrowed more,

_-Go upstairs. Seems you're on babysitting duty tonight._

Steve wondered what that meant, go upstairs to his room or to Tony's? He bound the stairs two at a time, just to be safe, he walked into his room and skidded to a halt. A tuxedo was layed out on his bed, the clothing looked his size, and wouldn't you know it, so did the shoes. What was Tony playing at? Babysitting duty? As far as Steve knew, babysitters were never required to wear such formal attire.

"Charity ball. To save baby seals or polar bears or something." Tony's lazy drawl came from the doorway, surprising Steve, he whirled around, "And I need a tux because...?"

Tony smirked, "Fury feels that you need to accompany me, to assure that I don't get too trashed and befoul the Avenger's public image, which is a ludicrous assumption to make, it's appalling the man thinks I can't control myself."

"Well.." Steve began to mutter a rebuttal before Tony cut him off, "You should get dressed, we're leaving at nine. Take a shower first." Then he left, his parting words earning an offended grimace from the super soldier, who sniffed his thermal and immediately agreed with Tony, and quickly hopped in the shower. He refused to think about how horrible this night could turn out while he got ready for it.

~o0o~

If it weren't for Nick Fury or Pepper, both of them would be sitting in the Tower, sleeping or something. How dare he? Tony Stark didn't ruin public images, he inflated them! It was an appropriate assumption given his past behavior, but still, hearing it out loud wounded him, somewhere deep deep down, of course. Tony stood dressed and ready by the elevator, waiting impatiently for Steve to come clunking down the stairs with his giant feet. A clearing of the throat made Tony turn to the tall, well-dressed blonde in front of him, his hair looking meticulously disheveled, though Tony knew it somehow came naturally. The tux fit him quite well, his jacket draped artfully over he shoulders, well-defined biceps filled out the sleeves nicely; Capsicle cleaned up nicer than he'd expected, and he'd expected... It didn't even matter, whatever his expectations were, they had been well exceeded.

Tony caught himself staring, he hoped Steve hadn't as well. "Let's get this show on the road, shall we?" Steve's mouth pulled into a somewhat bashful smile as he nodded, stepping into the elevator with him when it arrived.

Both stepped in, as the doors closed shut and they began descending, Tony looked up over at the man beside him, focusing on the way his adams' apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously, but Tony hadn't noticed, being so transfixed on the vein in his neck that poked out every time he clenched his jaw, it was fascinating. He saw the way Steve's bow tie crooked a bit to the left and that the knot was twisted.

"Your bow tie's all messed up." Tony chuckled, enjoying how Steve perked up from his stoic expression to worry aimlessly at the thing around his neck. "Stop it, I'll fix it." Tony stepped in front of the taller man, leaning in close to see the mistake, getting a whiff of Steve's enchanting cologne as he did so, before undoing it, retying it, then smiling at his handiwork.

"There, now you're presentable."

Steve blushed, a raging blush that made its way from his neck to the tops of his ears, he thought his face might spontaneously burst into flames. There was absolutely no way to hide his random change of color, not in this small cramped space, Tony had just fixed his bow tie, and Steve didn't think anything of it. That was, until Tony lightly brushed the tips of his fingers against his neck before he went to stand patiently next to him, calmly waiting for the elevator doors to open, now that's all Steve can think about. He steeled himself as the doors opened and Tony waltzed to the car that was waiting for them, he followed, though all he wanted to do was run back up to his room, curl up with blankets and his sketchbook and never come out.

Tony was driving, as he had given Happy the night off, Steve was sure that if he had spent some time thinking about how bad this night could go, Tony driving would be somewhere on that list of 'What's the worst that could happen?'.

Just as he expected, Tony drove wildly on the crowded streets, weaving through cars that didn't go quite fast enough for him, and when Steve asked, 'As fast as you can go' was apparently the new speed limit. He had to remind himself not to clench the seat too tightly, he assumed his ears would be ringing for the next week if he messed up Tony's fancy, expensive car.

When they finally arrived, Steve wondered why he ever thought he might be overdressed, this was an event Tony Stark was invited to, there's no such thing as 'overdressed'. Velvet ropes were placed in front, three valets stood next to a booth of keys, one already jogging to meet the car as Tony pulled up, crowds of paparazzi were being held back by guards and flimsy waist-high fences, all wielding flashing cameras. They got out of the car, the noise was loud enough that he could barely hear Tony's firm call to the excited valet, "Not one scratch, I will personally kick your ass."

"CAPTAIN AMERICA! ARE YOU SUPPORTING THIS E-" "MR. STARK! THIS IS LACEY FROM THE S-" "DO YOU HAVE ANY COMMENTS ABOU-" "CAPTAIN ROGE-" "OH MY GOD! IT'S IRON MAN!"

All their voices seemed to blend together, and Steve wanted to get away from the babble, so he tilted his chin up a fraction and took longer strides, sweeping ahead of Tony and entering the building first. But Tony didn't mind much, because at that moment he noticed what a mighty fine behind Cap had, and he didn't care what him thinking that meant, he just knew it was true. He followed after him into the building, his eyes unashamedly fixed on the Captain's backside, but looked up before anyone could call him on it.

"Ah, champagne!" Tony called out, gleeful. He wandered over to the gentleman holding a sterling platter of glasses full with champagne, and came trotting back with two glasses in his hands, he held one out to Steve. "Tony, you know I can't g-"

"Hush, take it. You won't get a buzz but it still tastes pretty good." He held his hand out further, pushing the glass to the taller man's chin, "Fine." Steve grabbed the stem in front of his face and took a sip, Tony was right, it tasted fine, but he wouldn't have another one, it was too sweet and it made his lips feel sticky. Tony told Steve to find him if he gets bored, "I'm sure you won't have a problem keeping busy, 93-year-old super soldiers are totally in now." Then he was gone, and no sooner than he left, a short portly man with a woman who looked like she supermodels for a hobby, arrived.

~o0o~

After he got over the shock that so many people wanted to speak to him so badly, he became extremely, horribly bored. He wondered how Tony did this all the time, how horribly dull it must be for him, then Steve remembered the stories Natasha told him, about the women and the drinking and the horrible combination it was when Tony was involved, there was no cheating when he and Pepper were together, but the partying alone was too much. Steve didn't think that was a very healthy way to deal, especially with the Healthy Tony regime he thought the Genius was following. He suspected Tony believed healthy didn't apply to his extracurricular activities.

Steve stood from his perch on a bench in a shadowy corner in search of the bar, thinking a glass of cranberry juice would soothe his dry mouth, and stopped as he reached the bar stool. Suddenly, his mouth went drier, on the far side of the bar Tony Stark had his hand on a tall, blonde womans' shoulder, she giggled. A high-pitched sound that carried over to him, piercing his finely tuned eardrums, Tony was smiling a lazy, crooked smile at her, gesturing too wildly for the near-full glass in his hand. Steve didn't care about his drink anymore, what he cared about was that she's touching his arm now, batting her eyes too coquettishly for Steve's taste.

His insides spasmed with anger, was it anger? It kinda felt like anger, but something different, something more possessing that gripped him and rooted him to the spot, his hand twitched. _There was that giggle again._ She didn't have any right, barely knowing him and thinking she can paw at him like that, then Steve realized what the feeling was, and to his great dismay, it wasn't anger. It was jealousy.

That realization must've sent him over the edge, because in the next second he was out of his seat and striding toward the sickening sight, and though he was losing his bravado as he neared them, he kept his face expressionless, "I'm sorry miss, would you excuse us, please?"

She stared at Steve for an immeasurable amount of time and reluctantly left Tony's side with a lingering hand on his shoulder and a wink towards Steve, he tensed. Tony watched her leave, his brown eyes focused on the dramatic sashay of her hips, "What d'ya need, Cap?" He turned toward Steve, his palm supporting the weight of his head. _Strong hand... _

"How drunk are you?" Steve asked, already knowing what the genius would say.

"Not that drunk, I'm fine." The hiccup that followed ruined the sober look that he seemed to be going for.

Steve grumbled (his jealousy dissolving slowly into diluted irritation), and grabbed Tony's wrist to pull him through the crowd of well-dressed people. He hoped Tony had talked to everyone he was supposed to, because Steve refused to stay here another moment, it turned out just as bad as he thought it would be. Tony didn't struggle or try to yank himself free from the vise grip, he let Steve drag him out of the lavishly decorated foyer, and for that he was grateful; really, the place was just horrible.

The valet came back with the car very quickly, Steve thought it might've been because of the look he gave him, he tossed the keys in their direction and Tony made to catch it, but thank Steve's amazing reflexes for his hand darting out in front of Tony's outstretched hand and catching them first.

"I'm driving."

"The hell you ar-"

"Nope. You've been deemed unfit to run heavy machinery. "

"But-"

"Get in the car, Tony."

Even though he made a show about it, he slid into the passenger's seat when Steve revved the engine. He flew down the roads, speeding through stoplights and earning a boatload of obscene gestures Tony was sure Cap had never seen, Tony tried to think how Steve knew the way back, but he couldn't wrap his fuzzy head around what just happened, what he just saw. What the fuck was that? Honestly? He was just having a drink with this pretty girl, then Spangles shows up and pulls him through the crowd like he was a misbehaving toddler! What had he done? He didn't have that much to drink, okay well maybe he did, but he was staying away from the cameras, there was no way any public image was being befouled. This was bullshit. Tony promptly started to pout.

~o0o~

There was no reason to freak out, he was just-uh, looking out for Tony, yep, there was totally reason for all that. That's what he was there for, to make sure Tony didn't do anything stupid, that's why he was wearing a tux, and a bow tie, a very itchy bow tie. Steve took one hand from the steering wheel and undid the bow tie with a twist and a tug. _Much better_. Tony didn't want the car parked in the parking garage, this was one of his favorites, it had a special spot in an extension of his lab. So Steve drove up the levels, parked, and took the keys out of the ignition, he sat back in his seat after he unbuckled the seatbelt.

Tony followed suit, keeping his pout firmly in place. A few moments passed and Tony was tired of his obvious agitation not being acknowledged, "So, you wanna tell me what was goin' on back there?" He kept his arms crossed as he turned to face the silent soldier.

Steve stuttered, unsure of how to justify what he'd done, "Well, that woman, she could've been a-a reporter or something." Tony scoffed, "Trust me, she wasn't. Try again."

Steve stared at him for a while, wondering what to say to that, he'd experienced a fit of jealousy, from Tony flirting with some random woman, he didn't know what to think of that, didn't know what to think of his feelings, nor what to do with them. He knew Tony was waiting for an answer but Steve couldn't give him one at the moment, he looked away from the brown eyes gazing at him expectantly, to the steering wheel, then to the window. He opened the door and got out of the car, the air in there felt too thick, claustrophobic, his lungs felt tight, and it reminded him of how he used to feel before an asthma attack.

The cool, clean-smelling air in the lab was refreshing, his mind felt less like it was caked with mud, and he felt like he was functioning properly again, though he couldn't remember feeling like he couldn't function. That didn't matter, he felt relatively calmer outside the car, the passenger door thunked shut, letting Steve know Tony had left the car as well, he pressed the button on the set of keys, eliciting two resounding blips from the car.

"It was just really boring, and I wanted to get out of there." Steve lied, he couldn't admit to being jealous! How could he? He was having a hard enough time trying to wrap his own head around that fact, God, he didn't even want to think of Tony's reaction, especially now, when he was leaning against the side of the car beside Steve, drunk and struggling to keep himself vertical. He wouldn't remember any of it, so there was no point.

Tony huffed, "Hence the alcohol. It _reeaally_ must suck that you can't get drunk. Oh _God!_ Here I am, jus' rubbin' it in. Sorry, Cap." Tony put an arm around his shoulder, a gesture that was meant to make him feel better about his inability to be inebriated, but Steve tensed instantly, and tried to remove himself from under Tony's arm, not comforted in the least. He didn't think he could deal with all his newfound emotions and a drunk Tony at the same time, not all at once, not with Tony's misleading affections muddling up all sorts of lines for them both without even knowing it.

"Come on, buddy. I think it's your bedtime." Steve didn't mind that Tony slung his arm right back over his shoulder, humming contentedly while he lead him up to his room, because this was recognizable, this was friendship, something that he understood quite fairly as opposed to the latter. Soon, he would be able to run back to his own quarters and decipher all the confusing thoughts buzzing around his brain.

It was a fairly easy task getting Tony up the stairs to his room, the only problem Steve had was when he finally deposited the dead weight on the bed and wondered whether it'd be proper to dress him in his pajamas. He decided not to, figuring Tony liked his privacy, and settled for removing his tie, jacket, belt and shoes. _There, that should do.._ After draping the blanket over the sleeping body, Steve crept out of Tony's room then he raced to his own, shutting the door behind him softly, he stood for a moment in the darkness before flipping a switch and undressing in a daze.

As he had expected, the night was a disaster, and that was the only way he could phrase it. Feelings had been discovered, but not expressed, they could never be expressed, could they? No, he didn't think so, things just weren't done that way, not in his day. Had that many things changed? Was it suddenly just fine if you went up to your teammate, your _friend_, and told them you didn't want them to see other people because it made you irrationally angry? What did that even say about _himself_? Why did he suddenly feel this way, feel like Tony was somehow his domain, his _territory_? He had no more right than that woman did to call Tony his... _His property._

Steve stepped into the scalding hot shower, his muscles relaxing under the burning water, his mind going back through the events of tonight. He thought about the elevator, about how the energy seemed to have shifted slightly when the doors closed, leaving the air charged and thick, just like in the car. Steve thought about how his mouth went dry and his throat tight when Tony's fingers brushed against the base of his neck, and shuddered, Steve suddenly wanted to go to bed.

Steve quickly traded his towel for sweatpants, the room seeming colder than when he had first entered, and climbed under the covers. Sleep refused to come to him.

~o0o~

Tony came in at around three in the morning, shutting the door behind him, effectively startling Steve.

"Tony? Are you alright?" Steve clambered out of the bed, to stand in front of Tony, his eyes were vacant, glazed over and unfocused as Steve looked over them, he worried something might be wrong with him. Tony walked around Steve, ignoring him completely and climbed into his bed, covering himself up with the fluffy duvet and closed his eyes.

Steve stood in shock, unable to assess the situation clearly, his mind bleary with the sleep that he hadn't had. Then, after a half-formed argument with himself, he shrugged and got into bed beside Tony, pulling some of the covers over to him before closing his own eyes.

Steve didn't fall asleep until a few minutes later, though. He tossed and turned until Tony grumbled and rolled over to hug his torso tightly, nuzzling his cheek against Steve's chest, the warmth alone relaxing him enough to doze off.

* * *

WHOOOOAAAAA!

unexpected...

Blurb, well I have no idea what the morning responses are gonna be like. You guys should tell me what you guys think is gonna happen next, really, seriously. I'm going to bed, I really hope you liked it. I've lost a lot of sleep because of it!


	4. All the Answers

**I'm pretty sure this is just a giant bundle of fluff, wrapped in emotions and feels, then drenched in epiphany. So, I'm gonna want your opinions afterwards. IT'S OKAY TO TELL ME I SUCK.**

* * *

_Lips... Soft, innocent, full pink lips... The heat, an all-consuming warmth, like the sun, a smoldering sanctuary, and it was so close... Too close, but he couldn't move if he wanted to, and he really didn't want to. He felt his body rocking slowly, like he was lounging on the deck of a boat, but the rhythm was too steady, too even... Something wasn't right._

Tony awoke with a jolt, but stilled soon after he realized where he was, and whose arms were wrapped tightly around his body. Steve's bed was where he lay, immobilized from shock. His heart rate began to rise in panic, arc reactor pulsing its bluish glow as it worked harder to keep him alive. He forced himself to relax, to take more steadying breaths, he told himself he would be able to work out the details later, but for now he had to figure out hot to remove himself from this bear trap that Steve called his arms.

He used his best efforts not to wake Steve as he wriggled and shimmied, trying to make some space between them for his escape. He managed to free his right arm that was pinned under Steve's side before his eyes fluttered open and a sleepy, lopsided grin stretched across his face, "Good morning." Tony couldn't hide the guilt that flashed across his face in time, Steve's brow furrowed, "Were you trying to sneak out?"

Well, he couldn't just lie to him, now that he's proved himself to be a fucking psychic.

"... Yes." The two wrinkles on Steve's forehead smoothed out as he stared at Tony in surprise, he tilted his head to the side, "Why?"

Steve hadn't let go of him since they woke up, though it was comfortable, he thought it made the situation seem less serious than it should. A pointed glance to the arms still tightly wrapped around Tony's waist and they retracted immediately, both sat up then, Steve looked towards the anxious man next to him, "Why?" He asked again, softer this time, his eyes wide and earnest.

God, Tony hated that about him, hated his innocence and how it suited him so well.

"Why? Well, maybe because that's the usual protocol for when I wake up in a bed that's not mine. Maybe, because I have no idea _how_ I ended up here. I'm freaking out now because the last thing I remember is getting out of the car, and that's not fucking helping me figure out. What. Happened." Tony finished with a clench of his jaw, Steve didn't laugh at his panic, though it was comical, because he could see the fear in his wide eyes, and he figured Tony had jumped to the worst conclusion. His voice low, he answered in the most serious tone he could muster, hoping it might put the brunette at ease.

"Tony. I brought you to your room when we got back and a few hours later, you came in here and just, sort of got into my bed and, fell asleep, nothing happened."

While Steve was explaining, he realized how ludicrous it sounded in his own ears, though it was the truth, he wondered for a moment whether Tony would believe him. Steve didn't know what was going on with Tony last night, he thought the genius was drunk last night, thought he'd passed out hours before, so he didn't know how to react when he showed up. Okay? He didn't know what to do, it just seemed like the easiest thing to do at the moment, he had been exhausted, not in his right mind, all he wanted to do was sleep and Tony hadn't been much of a deterrence.

"Well, I'm sorry for disturbing you, it was very rude. I'll uh, just get out of your hair and, uh.. Sorry. I don't know why that happened, sleepwalker, huh? That's weird. I should probably get some medication for that and- You're not wearing a shirt." Tony glanced over at Steve and stopped, did he just say that out loud? He really hated that sometimes, how he had no filter and just blurted out whatever thought popped into his head, especially now. It was perfectly fine if Steve wasn't wearing a shirt, it was his room and Tony was the one intruding; his head throbbed.

Steve relaxed and smiled a crooked little half-smile, "No, Tony, I'm not."

Tony looked anywhere but the Captain's sculpted chest, the area a serious point of distraction. He needed to escape, 'cause this was all too much, way too much for just waking up.

"I need coffee."

With that, he shot up from the bed pausing long enough to see that he was still wearing the clothes from last night. Tony walked to his room quickly, without taking the time to shut the door, he rifled through his drawers hurriedly, pulling out an old faded pair of ripped jeans and a black sweatshirt. His wrinkled clothes were torn off before he reached the closet, he bent down and yanked a pair of black converse from an open shoebox in the corner, walked back to his bed and got dressed as fast as he could. He roughly pulled his shoes on, grabbed his wallet and a pair of sunglasses, and rushed to the elevator, pushing the button furiously until it arrived.

Tony tied his shoes, put on his sunglasses, and waited for the elevator to reach the parking lot. Refusing to think of anything at all besides the absence of coffee. Coffee, coffee, coffee.

~o0o~

Steve tried to not feel hurt by the way Tony dashed away, it was a simple mistake and Tony was probably embarrassed... Or something. Today felt like it was going to be a lazy day, so he climbed out of bed and went down to the kitchen to make himself a cup of hot chocolate. The tower seemed relatively quiet, the only noise besides the high-pitched whistle of the kettle was the excited rumble of thunder outside, thick grey clouds rolled menacingly through the sky, holding in them the promise of a storm. He hoped the weather was simply weather, and not the booming demigod dropping by for a visit.

When he got back to his room he locked the door behind him, not wanting any disturbances, he placed his mug down and walked over to the bed, in one swift motion he lifted the thick mattress with one hand, and snatched the thick, leather-bound sketch book he'd stashed there with the other. Steve's drawings were for his eyes only, it was like his diary, but instead of whiny daily entries there were doodles and morbid drawings from battles he remembered too vividly, and some sketches were of his fellow Avengers.

He went to the curtains and opened them wide, the storm had already started, fat heavy droplets of rain falling fast and hard, landing ungracefully on the sidewalk and all the inhabitants of it. He set himself up comfortably, curling up on the large brown chair, which was surprisingly larger than he thought, he sipped from the steaming mug of hot chocolate and picked up one of the pencils from the small table next to him, and flipped through some of his earlier drawings.

He had attempted to draw Thor's mighty hammer, Mjolnir, but couldn't remember all the intricate symbols carved into the tool. He drew Natasha's face as he'd remembered it from fighting beside her during battle, a cavalier smirk masking her determined focus, the easy light in her eyes showing she knew what she was doing in every way imaginable. The strain in Clint's neck while he was at target practice, the relaxed roll of his shoulders as he poised his arrow directly in front of the bullseye. The concentrated look on Bruce's face when he tried to calm himself down, while 'the other guy' attempted to fight through, but today Steve wanted to draw something else.

Then he began to draw, for hours he sat there, when finished with one drawing he immediately started another, not really noticing what he'd just drawn, only focusing on all the little details, all he saw were lines and shadows, after seven pages of this he finally stood up and all his bones creaked and his shoulders popped, his body's response to sitting in the same place for hours without moving, after he closed the book and set it on the table he had the most overwhelming urge to pee, and ran to the bathroom.

Steve washed his hands and came back to the window he had spent his whole morning in front of, the storm still carrying on relentlessly. He opted for standing, he could sit back down when his rear wasn't so numb, after picking up his sketch pad Steve leaned up against the window, his back to the world. Leafing through the pages, quickly moving past the older drawings, the only ones he had interest in were the ones he'd just done, and he was getting a bit frustrated that he hadn't marked his place. Finally, he came upon what he was looking for, and had to do a double take, then a triple take, before he got past the shock and awe at the subject he'd drawn several times.

Tony, he'd drawn Tony Stark, in scrupulous detail throughout _five, six.. _Seven pages. Seven pages dedicated to his trademark facial hair, his hands, his mouth, and most of the pages were littered with small doodles or full-scale sketches of Tony Stark's eyes. On the last page, Steve's chest tightened as he found himself caught in the captivating gaze on the paper. Dusty, rust-colored eyes with black shadowing the rims of the iris', flecked with the deepest shades of black, stared at him knowingly, a thick pair of dark lashes fanned out daringly, he could almost see them fluttering devilishly at him.

Steve snapped the book closed.

~o0o~

Tony stayed in his car after purchasing the largest coffee Starbucks could offer, the beverage tasted fine and was just the right temperature, but a bitter taste lingered on his tongue. He grimaced and watched the rain pound against his windshield, behind the wall of precipitation, Tony could only see a few feet ahead of him, making it unwise to drive home at the moment, yet alone a great distance. It was funny, because if it weren't for the rain, he'd be somewhere far away from home by now; but he's being forced to sit and contemplate his actions and emotions by some weird, ironic force of nature. The one matter he didn't want to approach with a ten foot pole, and both the weather and his mind seemed to trap him with the subject, because all of a sudden, all he could think about was that little smirk Steve gave him this morning.

That was probably the most devious he'd ever seen Steve be, it was scandalous, and sexy, very sexy. Tony had gone through his college experimentation phase, and he'd had his fair share of male lovers, but never had he experienced this amount of sheer attraction. Now that he thought about it, he's never been attracted to anyone like this before, but that couldn't be possible.

Oh, but it could. All the people he's been with were just bodies to him, nothing more, bodies he wanted, bodies to use and never see again. Pepper was different, yes, there was no denying that, because Tony cared for Pepper. Tony cared for Pepper because she took care of him, something that no one had ever attempted before, and more, she _wanted _to; and he cherished that, he wanted to keep someone like that around, he had it in his mind that he was always going to have to take care of himself, and she took that burden away from him, he adored her for that. She was a novelty to him.

The realization that those were his true feelings for Pepper shook him, had he never really loved her? No, he had, he _did _love her, but not in that way, not in the way he thought. Tony felt lighter, more buoyant, the sadness that lingered and threatened to consume him was gone, vanished, all thanks to the grievous process of sorting through his emotions. He figured since he was already on a roll, (and if he didn't he was sure more unwarranted bedtime fiascos would continue, and Steve might get suspicious.) he would tackle the situation involving Steve, which was just a big bundle of awkward anywhere that concerned him.

Steve was a gorgeous man, anyone with eyes could tell you that. What really interested Tony the most was that he was incredibly blind to it, the man blushes if someone compliments his shirt. It's fucking adorable, why was that so adorable to him? Was there some super pheromones affecting him or some other kind of semi-rational explanation, other than the fact that Tony might like Captain America? Like, _like-_like him. God, now he sounded like a thirteen year old girl with a crush.

Well, that's what it is isn't it? A crush, he has a goddamn crush on the Capsicle!

Flirting with Steve Rogers, the fondue man. That, right there, is an entertaining thought. Which just so happened to shed light on something much, much more entertaining. When the rain stopped, he would drive back to the tower, the thought of a gift for the Captain already taking shape in his mind. Damn, did he crave to make that man blush.

~o0o~

Steve firmly decided that he would not act on any of this, he had feelings for Tony, having figured that out some time ago, but there was nothing he could do with them. He was too unsure whether his feelings would be reciprocated, and he couldn't chance being rejected. He'd dealt with too much of it in his past, and he just wouldn't be able to handle it, not from Tony, not about this.

Him and Tony would be friends, and Steve was gonna have to come to terms with the fact that, that's all they'll ever be. Sure, it will hurt, but there were boundaries he had to respect, and he was going to respect them.

You know what the thing is about hope, though? When its seed is planted, it's usually by accident, and you never notice it's roots embedding itself deeper and deeper inside you. So you find yourself grasping this hope without even meaning to, and you'll try to dismiss it, but you won't be able to, because now there's this deep-seated need nested in the back of your mind. The need for whatever you're hoping for to be granted to you, but it won't be.

And Steve was quite sure of that.

Sure enough, there was hope fluttering in Steve's stomach, and he knew then that he'd never be able to stop hoping, no matter how hard he tried. He groaned, he'd never be able to stop hoping that he'd be able to grow a pair and just tell Tony, he'd never be able to stop hoping that Tony would share his feelings, and he'd never be able to stop hoping that there weren't any boundaries.

A sharp knock at his door snapped him out of his reverie, letting him momentarily forget about his horrible moods. Clint Barton stood in his doorway, dressed in his gym clothes, white headphones hung from his neck and he could hear muted angry grunts and swears coming from them. "You doin' okay, Cap?" He looked as if he were planning to say something else, but something about Steve's appearance must have put him off. Steve smiled at him, not wanting his emotions to sully everyone else's mood, as far as anyone besides him was concerned, he was fine, perfectly fine.

"I'm not sparring with you, Clint."

His concerned expression vanished, "Why not? Come on, Cap! I need the challenge"

"You remember what happened last time, I'm not doing that again." He didn't budge, the last time Barton had convinced him into a sparring match, the archer ended up with a dislocated shoulder because he was too stubborn to let Steve know he was in pain.

Clint let out a rather comical frustrated whine, "Dude, seriously, I'm serious, let's spar. I'm _fine_, come on, there's gotta be a little pent-up anger in there _somewhere_. When's the last time you worked out? You look fat." He sent a couple of fake jabs towards Steve's torso, this is exactly what he did last time. Before, he had teased him about his age and how he was rusty and all that nonsense, except now he knew it was nonsense. Although, he was in fact frustrated, and Thor was busy in Asgard, the only other opponent that would match him equally besides a suited-up Tony.

"Fine, give me five minutes." Steve agreed without really considering the consequences, but the mere thought of Tony made him irrational and frustrated. Clint was right about the pent-up frustration, it was in there, barely concealed, but he didn't think the eager man should've offered to be his punching bag, Steve didn't really think Barton cared, he just wanted to prove that he wasn't a weaker man, that he could rumble with the best of them.

Steve shut the door after Clint ran off to the gym, he didn't really need to change, but he didn't want to stay in his pajamas anymore, the rain stopped hours ago, the sky darkened with twilight approaching, and he no longer felt like lounging around, or sketching, he didn't want to sketch for a while, his hands felt like traitors. He traded his grey sweatpants for black ones, threw on a long-sleeved shirt and put on a pair of sneakers he couldn't remember buying (though they fit him comfortably), when he was about to open the door he glanced at the bedside table.

There, the Stark phone lay silent, it's screen blank. Steve picked it up and put it in his pocket, the next second he was on his way to the gym, after he descended the first flight of stairs something buzzed against his left thigh, he took out the phone and unwanted image of brown eyes gazing at him burned behind his eyelids, the screen read '_Tony Stark_'.

_-You know Fury's gonna be super pissed if you break him, right? Better idea, why don't you spare the poor man and come up to the lab._

How did he even know that he was going to spar with Clint? He'd only agreed to it not more than five minutes ago. Steve was about to reply a curt, 'I won't' but the phone buzzed in his hand, stopping him.

_-You won't be breaking his heart, Cap. He'll live. _

And again, _-Chop Chop!_

And once more, _-Get them hot buns up here! _

Steve blushed at the last one before turning in the opposite direction of the gym, feeling less guilty about ditching Clint for Tony the closer he got to the lab, and completely forgetting about the man as he stood in front of the access pad. He didn't get a chance to knock, the door springing open, his fist stayed in mid-air for a moment before he walked into the lab, eyes scanning the room swiftly.

Suddenly Tony stood in front of him, hands behind his back, "Come on in, Cap." He beamed at Steve, though his voice wavered slightly, he couldn't tell whether it was from excitement of nervousness. He ventured further into the lab apprehensively, seating himself on Tony's workbench, he looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, Tony's hands were still behind his back, and the grin he was giving Steve began to look forced. Steve craned his neck trying to see what he was hiding behind his back, but every time he did, Tony turned the other way, purposely blocking his view.

"Tony!" Steve shouted, his agitation getting the better of him. Tony just blinked innocently, "What?"

"What is that?"

"What's what?"

"_That_, behind your back. Why are you hiding it?"

Tony smiled again, this time a small, crooked smile, "You have to promise you won't say no." That was a promise only Tony Stark would ask someone to make, "Say no to what? Just- What's behind your back?"

"If you don't promise, you'll never find out."

"Fine."

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I changed some things around to make the time of day fit in with the next chapter, so... Yeah... Nighttime... :)


	5. A Promise Held A Virgin Traumatized

**I lost count how many times I edited this chapter. I super-crazy-insanley hope you guys like this.**

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Steve didn't realize the full extent of his stupidity until a moment later, just after Tony pulled the object he'd been hiding out from behind his back, something that resembled a wine bottle only thinner, like an oversized phial, filled with a liquid that seemed to shimmer in the lab's flourescent lights. Tony held it in such a way to make clear to Steve that, whatever he intended Steve to do would inevitably involve _that_, he stifled the refusal that threatened to escape his throat, and instead asked simply and innocently, "What's that?" With a hint of feigned confusion.

Tony wasn't fooled, Steve knew exactly what this was, but he had practiced this conversation too many times while he was giving the recurring idea a physical shape, and he'd be damned if this didn't just as he planned, "This is an experiment-"

Creating something specifically for Captain America, the super soldier with the inability to be inebriated, was just a little shy of impossible, but Tony being a fucking _genius, _helped grease the wheels, 's super-enhanced version of moonshine was a first draft, a prototype, and would have been harder to make if he hadn't been thinking about this for some time. So, yes, it was an experiment, and he'll swear with his last dying breath that it's creation was for the greater advancement of science; Not his personal amusement.

"-And you are my test subject."

As expected, Steve balked at Tony's answer. He wasn't, by any definition, a lab rat; Yet, that was exactly what Tony expected him to be. He could only assume whatever was in that bottle would end up making him sick, how did Tony know that the serum wouldn't reject it in some gross, uncomfortable way? Thinking better of questioning Tony's knowledge, and refusing to break his word, he gulped and asked, "What would you have me do?"

Tony's lips pursed as he tried to force himself not to let his surprise at Steve's lack of hesitation show, "I'm _asking _you to drink it." He leaned over Steve to retrieve the glass from the work table, and uncorked the bottle in his hand, "Only a little, alright? I advise you to drink it fast, I'm almost positive it won't taste like berries." Steve watched as the scientist filled the glass halfway with the contents of the bottle, he might've taken a little too long to accept the glass from Tony's outstretched hand, but he thought it was a good start by taking the glass at all.

He really didn't want to drink this, all he could think of were worst-case scenarios, his liver exploding, his hair falling out, all the things he'd ever heard about science experiments gone wrong, but he made a promise. "What's it supposed to do?" Steve asked, uncertainty lacing his words.

"Take the edge off." Tony explained, excitement burning bright in his wide eyes, and the last thing he wanted was to see disappointment in them, Tony wouldn't give him anything that would hurt him, or make him sick, not on purpose at least. He realized that he trusted Tony, and that trust fueled him to tip the glass to his lips.

The liquid hit his tongue like licking a frozen pole would, it was icy and metallic, and flowed down his throat smoothly, he tilted his head back and when the glass was empty, he handed it back over to Tony. Eyes wide and eager, he leaned closer to Steve, examining his facial expression, "How do you feel?"

Steve was about to answer, intending to tell him he felt the same as before, that his experiment hadn't worked, and that, most likely, the serum hadn't let Tony's drink affect him, but suddenly it felt like an ice-cube dropped and settled in the pit of his stomach. "I feel.. Different."

Different.. Like, not the same. His stomach felt hot, like he swallowed the red-hot embers from a fireplace and not the ice he'd felt only moments before, that was weird. So weird. Super weird. Wait, why was Tony looking at him like that?

"You look confused." Steve said matter-of-factly, Tony stared at him some more then huffed like he was frustrated, what's he so frustrated about? Wasn't he confused a minute before?

"Explain to me, in detail, exactly how you feel right now." Tony said slowly, as if Steve were a child incapable of understanding simple commands. He then remembered that this was Tony's experiment and he might need some feedback, so he attempted to do as he was told.

"Well, my stomach's all warm, and my head feels a little fuzzy, and... Just, weird. Hey, will you tell me how you get your hair to stay like that? I heard Agent Romanov say that you use hair gel, but I don't believe her."

Then Tony was laughing, hard. Full-blown guffaws turning into some kind of silent barking, and tears began to fall from the corners of his eyes, he fell back into a wheely chair across from Steve, unable to stay upright. He rolled the chair over to him when his laughing fit was finally over, reduced to light giggles.

"Cap, you're drunk." he laughed, partly at how amusing drunk Steve was, and that his mutant moonshine had actually worked. Now that he thought about it, the production of it was probably all kinds of illegal.

Steve's eyebrows knitted together, he wasn't drunk, nope- wait, nevermind. Yes, yes he was. So this was what being drunk felt like, huh? "Not what I expected." He admitted, It felt like his conscious self was shut up in a cage, forced to witness whatever stupid thing he would end up doing, bound and helpless. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but then again, it was.

Steve felt no sense of duty in this state, he didn't feel the pressure, the always being on edge, having to be ready to save the world at a moment's notice. He liked that part very much, the part he didn't like was that feeling of being unable to control himself, not being able to stop himself from doing anything he wouldn't do if he were in his right mind.

Like, how he couldn't stop himself from leaning forward a few inches, reaching out to touch Tony's hair, who's mild chuckles died out as Steve ran his fingers through the soft brown locks there, he retracted his hand and sat back, satisfied.

"I knew it, it's hairspray isn't it? If you used gel your hair wouldn't be so soft. Do you use girls' hairspray? Does your hair smell like lilacs and pretty things?" Steve laughed to himself, not noticing the incredulous expression on Tony's face, he was too busy laughing at how funny he'd just become.

"Hey! A lot of _guys _use product in their hair! It's _not _weird." Tony jabbed a finger at Steve, trying to make his point clear, "All this coming from the guy who can distinguish the difference between hair gel and hairspray so well." He muttered, beginning to get frustrated that he could not get drunk as well, because now it felt like he was babysitting, he poured himself one glass of scotch while Steve was laughing, the only one he'd allow himself to have. Then he remembered the entire reason he created mutant moonshine for the super soldier in the first place, to make Steve Rogers blush that signature blush of his.

"Hey, Cap." Tony interrupted the mans' laugh and was answered with a frown.

"Stop callin' me that. Captain America isn't here right now, he's in a closet. My name's Steve, nice to meet you." He crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Tony, his eyes flat.

"Fine. Hey, _Steve_." He humored him, finding it endearing how Steve felt this strongly about distinguishing a difference between him and his superhero persona; Captain America. Tony just wanted to get to the point.

"Yeah?" Steve smiled, thinking that it was maybe the first time he'd ever heard Tony use his honest name, it made his heart all fluttery. He wasn't at all expecting what he heard next, "So, are you a virgin?" And then, fantastically, Tony got exactly what he wanted, the very second he said the word 'virgin', Steve's face burned a bright crimson, embarrassment seeping through his pores, and his eyes were immediately cast down.

Did he really have to ask that question? God- Just, oh _God_. So what if he was? That surely wasn't any of Tony's concern, or anyone else's. He didn't have the time for Christ's sake! Steve looked up, horrified, narrowly avoiding head-butting the genius who had put mere centimeters between them while he wasn't looking.

"Are you?" Tony questioned, his breath hot against Steve's face, his blush deepened, and he suddenly wished he had left his phone in his room.

"Yes." He whispered, not because the subject was delicate, but because he thought anything louder than a whisper would rupture the bubble he'd just realized they were in, it made it seem as if nothing existed in that moment but them and the few square feet of space they occupied. The fire roared in his belly, his heart pounding so hard Steve feared it might fly out of his chest and hit Tony square in his right shoulder, what had Tony done to him?

Tony was thinking about tact when he invaded Steve's three-foot distance rule, something about how 'everyone valued their own personal space', rounded through his clouded mind, his adams' apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. "You haven't done anything, ever?"

"Well, a kiss.." Steve recounted the woman who was much more forward than he'd expected any dame to be in his time, and tried not to think about it.

Tony didn't even register that they had leaned closer towards each other until the tip of his nose faintly brushed against Steve's. He took a breath, his eyes dropped lower to the soft, pale lips just millimeters away, before looking up to Steve's heavy-lidded gaze. He didn't think about what he did next, he only closed the vile distance, softly capturing the curve of Steve's bottom lip between his, before pulling away slowly.

Steve leaned forward to catch the warmth of Tony's lips again, only to realize they were pulling away, Tony muttered huskily, "That makes two." He hadn't intended to take advantage of Steve while he was drunk, he really hadn't. Though that's what he just did, he had gotten Captain America drunk and took advantage of him. Now that he'd just kissed him, Tony felt an incorrigible need sully to his virtue, he let his head fall in self-disgust.

"Not enough." Came Steve's gruff reply, a flash of frustration sobered him as he took the chair Tony was sitting in by its armrests and pulled it to him with a rough jerk, one hand still gripping the armrest of the chair (To make sure the genius didn't roll away.), the other to tangle his fingers in the softest brown hair, grip gentle enough not to hurt him, but strong enough to keep him where he wanted him, and he wanted Tony as close as possible. Lips hovered over Tony's, unsure of the next course of action, Steve's inexperience halting him momentarily, a bead of fear oozed cool, and slick down his back. Tony noticed his hesitation and took the initiative, he tilted his chin up, pressing their lips together firmly, the taller man answered appreciatively with soft, pliant lips.

A dark hunger spread through Tony, he got up and kicked the chair away without breaking their connection. Their lips mashed together fervently, Steve's grip tightened in Tony's hair, and then two strong hands were pushing him backward, his shoulder blades pressed uncomfortably against the hard metal of the work table. Most of Tony's body weight now rested in Steve's lap, his knees trapping the blonde's legs as he straddled him, hips gyrating in a steady rhythm; Steve's breath hitched when Tony's head dipped lower and began to nibble at the exposed flesh on his throat, flat teeth grazed the over-heated skin, eliciting a soft whimper from the man beneath him.

Tony's nose trailed along Steve's upturned jaw (his head thrown back to allow Tony easier access to his neck), smelling the sweetness of sugar and the soapy scent of clean, he dragged his bottom lip up Steve's chin before claiming his lips again, it being completely impossible to continue hearing the noises he was making without Tony cumming in his pants.

A wet tongue darted out to lick Steve's bottom lip, silently asking for entrance, his lips parted slightly, letting their tongues intertwine in a sloppy wrestle for dominance. Tony's tongue tasted the bitter tang of scotch, his mouth warm, wet, and willing; A shiver ran down Steve's back, the excitement sending his nerve endings wild. Hands were everywhere, never staying in one place for too long, constantly in search of new surfaces to explore.

Steve stilled when Tony's hands left him and reappeared at the hem of his sweatpants. His mind, brimming with desire, marveling at how good this feeling was, skidded to an abrupt halt, just now realizing how serious this was. Unease prickled in his chest, not sure exactly how far he wanted to go, a spike of adrenaline ran through him and his mind flooded with conscious thought, all yelling at him to flee, and his mind was made. Not this far, not this fast, his throat swelled with panic.

Tony had yet to notice his apprehension, and was twisting his fingers in th fabric when he was lifted up and placed back in the chair that should've been across the room. Steve stood up quickly, Tony looked up at him with a mixture of hurt and confusion, his hair all mussed up and shaggy looking, reminding Steve of the look the stray dog on his block would give him after he stopped petting him. His lips swollen and bruised, he tried to fight off the blush creeping its way up his neck as he spoke, "I-uh, I better go. Night, Tony."

And then he ran from the lab, he ran to his room like a little girl runs crying to her mother, he locked the door behind him and dropped down to the floor, his head thumped against the door when he threw his head back. Wincing, he rubbed the back of his head and fell to the side pathetically, Steve slept on the floor that night.

After finishing off that bottle of scotch he said he wasn't gonna touch again for the night, he fell asleep as well, in the backseat of one of his favorite cars.

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Okay, if you hate it, tell me why. If you love it, tell me why in ALL CAPS. :D

btw, sorry it was so damned late.


	6. Presents, Sweets & a Chocolate Sock

It was a cold day, the rainfall from yesterday now frozen in a light frost on the asphalt, almost making Tony's Cesare Paciotti boots slip him up a number of times. He stared down at the icy ground and tugged his coat tighter to him as he passed a group of tourists, no one was to see him doing this, this was a secret.

A super secret adventure, that no one was going to find out about, which was the reason he was walking down a busy street in downtown Manhattan, without so much as a car to shield him from the biting winds. Damn, it was getting cold pretty fast.

Tony woke up late, earlier than usual, but still considered late by the general public. It was around two in the afternoon, he had a pot of coffee for breakfast before getting dressed and leaving, shouting a quick 'Morning!' to Bruce through the small space in the almost closed elevator doors. He should probably hand over those blueprints Bruce asked him for yesterday.. Two days ago- no, three. Yeah, three days ago. He could do that when he got back, this was more important, well, at least he thought it was. And since his is the only opinion he would receive on the matter, judge rules it as important.

He'd fucked up monumentally last night, he made a big nasty awkward mess of the entire thing, and he had to make up for it. A 'Sorry-I-molested-you-again-only-you-were-semi-counscious-for-it-this-time' fruit basket wasn't going to smooth things over like he hoped it might, this was going to require an actual apology and something _thoughtful. _Tony's face twisted in distaste at the word, it was just so much easier to be mechanical, 'thoughtful' involved finesse and taking other people's feelings into consideration. Something he was admittedly never very good at.

It's better he tried, rather than doing nothing at all, he really needed to make this up to Steve, their rendezvous in the lab made something spark deep inside Tony, something that made him feel the need to make sure Steve was happy at any and all costs.

What would Steve like anyway? Obviously nothing too new, it might freak the old geezer out, _oh, that was mean, but funny, very funny. _Tony stifled a chuckle as he craned his neck to look over the various shop names, everything that caught his eye contained things that were much too flashy, and Steve didn't have the same taste as Tony, he had a completely different style. Steve liked simple, he didn't like much of a fuss, and Tony knew that, and he was going to abide by those guidelines, this was going to be a long day.

He thought about calling a cab after tripping again, having to regain his balance on a sandwich board advertising the specials for a hole in the wall pastry shop. The aroma of baked goods wafted through the air as a patron left with a bulging white paper bag, he made sure to make a mental note to stop back and buy something sweet for the tower.

_"Giachetti's Bakery." Gotta remember that._

Tony crossed the street with hundreds of other people most likely leaving for, or coming back from their lunch break. The tantalizing smell stayed on his mind for the next two blocks, his stomach roaring with want, but he was determined, there had to be something, _anything_, in this modern day Steve might gasp in awe at.

Tony just wanted to see Steve's eyes sparkle at him like they did last night. Just like last night.

To make his eyes sparkle in wonderment, was his new mission. Then wondered with indignation, about how well any other missions of his could go any better than his last. To make Steve blush, what kind of idiot pursues that kind of- of impetuous stupidity? Tony apparently, but it was a heedless act that he'd already scolded himself for. And, for the time being, he didn't want to dwell on things he couldn't change, there was always plenty of that for bedtime.

Sunglasses, designer sunglasses, who cares about the grey, sunless sky? Tony likey, but Steve wouldn't, heaving a great dramatic sigh, he kept walking. His mission quickly resembling an arduous task now that he wanted to go shopping for himself, he needed hats, and sunglasses. Tony pouted to himself, he was easier to buy for anyway, in the back of his mind he was being pelted with stones like, "Textbook Narcissist" and "Selfish Asshole", his eyes darted around desperately as he walked down side-streets and back roads for some place that might carry anything old-timey and/or exquisitely simple.

_Rudder's_.

Rudder's was a little shabby shop equipped with crumbling bricks, squeezed between a 24 hour tux-rental and an out-of-business video rental place. It looked... Rustic to Tony, maybe it was an antique shop or a thrift store, something told him that might be exactly where he needed to shop. Tony jaywalked across the empty street, in his haste he slipped on an icy step and stumbled through the door, soft bells tinkled to signal his arrival. A small silver-haired man with a book as big as his torso nodded at him from behind the counter, Tony nodded back politely.

At first glance, the store looked like an old man's den. Dark polished wood and withered leather everywhere, there were desks and tables holding the merchandise instead of shelves, price tags hung from twine and showcased in glass boxes were handmade watches, and-

_Holy shit. Is that a musket?_

It was a musket, and it looks super fucking cool. Could he buy it for Steve? For anyone? Just so he could have a reason to buy it at all. Because, that just needed to be on a wall somewhere he would see it everyday. Steve, shopping for Steve, not Tony, Steve, I'm-sorry present. Focus.

Tony begrudgingly walked away from the musket and over to a desk in the far corner that looked promising, he came upon a set of thick, leather-bound journals that couldn't have been produced later than ninety years ago. Tony picked one up, the pages were smooth, blank, white, and so thick it nearly resembled parchment. There were five volumes in total, all identical except for the digits embossed on the spine numbering them subtly, all placed neatly inside a medium-sized antique wooden chest with brass handles at either side.

This better cost a shit load of money, he wouldn't feel right paying any less for something so perfect. Tony delicately gripped the polished brass handles to lift the chest from the table and bring it to the counter, it wasn't that heavy, he only grunted once while lifting it, soon as he got a better grip it was easy to carry. Placing Steve's gift on the counter in front of the old man's book, he fished his wallet out, "Afternoon." The old man smiled at him, "Good afternoon." Tony returned with a smile of his own, the old man rang his purchase up.

"I love your store, where do you get your inventory?" Not in the mood for small talk, but genuinely curious. The old man grinned, his eyes lighting up from various memories no doubt bubbling to the surface, "Inherited the newer stuff from me gran's antique shop back in Norwich a few years back. The old'uns came from estate sales 'round the world, traveled a lot when I was young an' fit. Dusty broom cupboards in Madrid, cellars in Dublin just fulla my kinda treasures, I tell ya.

That'll be $349, an' if anyone round here paid much mind to antiques it'd be a helluva lot more." He bent down before taking the money Tony was counting out discreetly, why he carried five hundred dollars in cash instead of only his card, he didn't know, the old man sprung back up, producing brown packaging paper and rolling it out on the counter. He expertly wrapped the chest in the paper, tying it with the same twine that was tethered to all the price tags.

Tony traded off the money for the wrapped package and tucked it under his arm, pocketing his wallet, "Keep the change, expect me back, it was very nice meeting you-"

"Thomas, Thomas Havel."

"It was nice meeting you, Thomas. I'll be seeing you again." He shook hands with Thomas with his free hand and left the store with his infectious grin. He only walked a couple blocks before his arm became a bit sore, he called a cab, no more need for discipline because he'd already bought Steve's gift, and Tony was quite satisfied with himself. He scrambled in and placed the chest next to him on the seat, "Giachetti's Bakery. Know where that is?"

"Yessir." The cabbie sounded and weaved through the ever-present traffic, parking a few minutes later in front of the bakery he'd remembered clearly. "Keep the meter running, I'll be right back." Tony called before slamming the door.

He walked towards the heavenly sugar sweet perfume, and immediately knew what he wanted.

"What can I get for you, dear?" A portly woman by the register asked him, he smiled at her, he seemed to be doing a lot of that today, "Well, I want that, I need that-" Tony pointed at the display case that held something that had to be a cookie cake, because it was large and thick like a cake, but looked exactly like a gigantic double chocolate chip cookie.

"Know what? Just box up everything in that case there, are those muffins?"

She laughed as she started pulling the trays out, "No, sweetheart, those are cupcakes."

Two industrial sized bags and a tray of divine hot chocolates later, he pulled out his credit card, sweet tooth getting the better of him, "Alright, so these are-"

"I already marked them for you, dear." Her name was Vivian and he was definitely coming back to see her as well, judging alone from one sip of his hot chocolate, "You have a nice day, Mr. Stark."

"You as well, Vivian." He left to the cab, the two bags cutting off the circulation in his left arm, he juggled the drinks to open the door and huffed as soon as he shut the door, "Stark Tower, please."

~o0o~

"Bruce, come out front and help me carry this shit up."

_"So that's what you went to do? Shop? Clint and I thought you'd run away."_

"Ha ha, very funny. For your information, I went grocery shopping."

_Click._

He just finished paying the cabbie and resolved to drive his own car in the future, when Bruce showed up behind him, taking one of the bags and the tray. He squinted his eyes at the contents of the bag and then at Tony, "These aren't groceries, Tony." He laughed.

Steve sighed and cradled the wrapped package under his right arm, "It's food, is it not?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, subtly eyeing the bulk Tony was carrying while they walked into the tower, Tony pressed the button on the elevator and walked out in front of his fellow scientist, hurrying to drop the bag on the table only to turn and rush up the stairs to his room, calling deftly over his shoulder, "Be right back! Don't touch the blue box or I'll trash your lab!"

The blue box contained the luxurious looking cookie cake he intended to share with his mighty captain, and when Tony said 'don't touch' he meant don't touch, don't look, don't even sniff. He put Steve's present on his bed, shed his coat, and kicked off his boots, spending only a few seconds in front of the mirror to make sure his hair didn't look a mess before hauling the package with two hands down to Steve's room.

With Tony being so excited, and slightly anxious, he forgot how to knock on someones door like a normal person, instead he brought his fist to the door and refused to stop banging on it until it was opened. It didn't take long for Steve to yank the door open, red in the face and huffing to contain his quick-formed rage, "Why are you always in your room? It's starting to feel like we're living with a teenage girl." Tony commented, shoving himself past Steve and flopping on his bed, package settled on his lap.

"Why do you knock like a battering ram?" Steve quipped, trying with all his might to mask the utter horror he was feeling behind a baleful glare. The last time he'd seen Tony he ran out on him, exactly like the teenage girl he was just described to be, he tried not to think that was how he acted all the time. Tony smirked without conviction, he was a trifle nervous, but his hands were steady when he brought them up to rest on top of the package that lay in his lap, giving Steve a pointed look.

"The battering ram comes bearing gifts."

Tony patted the space on the bed, gesturing for Steve to sit down next to him, he did so apprehensively, wondering all the while why Tony would buy him anything at all? What did Steve possibly do to deserve anything? He ran, after mauling him first, then avoided Tony after the fact, and yet here he is, grinning and acting like he has something to make up to Steve. _Tony didn't do anything wrong. _

He sat on the edge of the bed, and felt it shift from the weight of the package as it was placed between them, he turned his head to the brunette; but, Tony thought the opposite, he _did _think he had something to make up for. He could tell by the pinch of desperation in Tony's gaze, Steve's heart clenched as he realized that he was about to receive an I'm-Sorry gift, Tony felt he'd done something to make him upset, felt that he had to fix something between them, and the only way he knew how was by spending his money on him. The fact Tony thought everyone's happiness, thought that Steve's happiness, could be bought hurt, bile rose in his throat. In reality, Steve was the one who needed to apologize, he should be the one showing up at Tony's door with something tucked under his arm, not the other way around, the situation felt backwards and wrong.

"Open it." He urged.

Steve shook his head, "Why should I?"

"Um.. Because if you don't remove the paper, you won't be able to see what's underneath it?" Steve narrowed his eyes at him, not in any sort of mood for his smart-alec behavior. "You have something on your face, don't know what it is but it makes you look like a moody teenage girl."

Tony bit the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't laugh when Steve said through gritted teeth, "Stop calling me that."

"What, a teenage girl? Just because you have the ass of one doesn't mean you should act accordingly. Man up, stop being a little bitch, and open the present I just spent two hours shopping for." Tony gave him a stern look and leaned back against the headboard. Seriously, he'd only been upstairs for a few minutes, but there's cake downstairs he should be eating and hot chocolate to consume, "Chop chop."

Did he just say he had the ass of a teenage girl? Somehow, each time Tony opened his mouth today, he managed to make Steve just a bit angrier, he ripped the brown paper apart savagely, and any trace of anger faded away as he stared at a dark wooden chest amidst the shreds of paper, "_Open it_." Tony's voice urged softly.

So he did, he ran his hand along the soft red velvet interior, saw his awe-struck expression reflected in the polished brass handles, and looked back up at Tony. Brown eyes silently watched him to pick up one of the several books, and he did so with the same idiot look on his face, he couldn't control his expressions at the moment, he was too, for lack of a better word, surprised. The pads of his fingers brushed along the blank and inviting pages, each waiting for strokes of his pencil to give them purpose. This... This was perfect.

"Tony, I-" Steve started, but Tony waved a hand dismissing him.

"There's hot chocolate and cake downstairs, special cake, you seriously have to try it. It looks really good, you like chocolate, right? 'Cause, it's like, really chocolatey." Tony got up and pulled Steve along with him, unable to let him say 'thank you' or anything else, he didn't trust Bruce with that cake, the big guy has a sweet tooth and he feared for the safety of his precious cookie cake. Steve kept up easily, not tripping down the stairs though Tony seemed determined to try to make him, this was for a reason, Steve thought, and it wasn't about some damn cake.

Suddenly, a voice boomed in the kitchen, "THIS MIDGARDIAN CONFECTION IS DELICIOUS! FRIEND, YOU MUST SHARE IN THIS DELIGHT WITH ME!" Followed by Bruce's nervous stutter, "O-oh, no. Thor! Don't eat that! Tony sai-"

Tony broke into a run, letting go of Steve's hand immediately, closing the five feet of distance shouting, "HEY! GETYERGRUBBYMITTSOFFMYCAKE!"

Steve jogged after him, arriving just in time to see Tony standing in front of the blond demigod with fury in his eyes, turning accusingly at a cowering Bruce, "I just went to go get Clint, I-I didn't hear him show up. I was gone for like, a minute-"

"SHAME!" Tony roared, and stalked over to Thor, who was frozen in place with a half-eaten slab of cake still in his hand. Tony slapped the cake out of his hand and it landed onto the open lid of its blue box, after a second of shocked silence, Thor picked up the box gingerly and held it out to Tony, who in turn snatched it from the blonde's hands without blinking away the crazed look in his eyes. "My apologies, Man of Iron, I had no idea of its val-" Tony did not take well to the placating tone of his voice, Steve began to think that this was, in fact, a very special cake indeed.

"BAD THOR, BAD! THIS IS HOW I GET TREATED IN MY OWN HOUSE! I'M NEVER GOING GROCERY SHOPPING AGAIN! SHAME! SHAME ON YOU AND YOUR HAIR AND YOUR GRUBBY SPACE MITTS!" Tony shouted. Despite any difference in height or muscles, Thor looked genuinely frightened of the man glaring up at him, he sat down in the nearest chair to put some distance between them. Bruce was in the corner, his body convulsing with silent laughter, his hand over his mouth to keep any noise from escaping, Steve leaned against the counter with a similar reaction. It was Thor's expression that did it, his wide blue eyes apologetic and frightened, making the two men snigger uncontrollably behind their hands.

Tony whirled around, both Avengers going still under his gaze, and turned on Steve next, "Gimme that cup." Steve quickly grabbed whatever cup was nearest to him and handed it over, this crazed version of Tony was much too comical and his sniggers were barely concealed. He stalked away to his lab, grumbling to himself about, "-no respect...should learn some midgardian ettiquette...was my damn cake, told him not to let anyone touch it...can't trust anybody these days-"

~o0o~

" , Tony, Tony, _Tooonnnyyyy_. TONY!"

"Mmrrumph." Tony grunted from inside the lab.

"Tony, open this door." Steve demanded, "Uh, no." he called out, Steve rolled his eyes. There was no possible way to get into the lab, he didn't have the access codes, and Tony sure wasn't gonna let him in, unless- "Jarvis?"

The door clicked open softly, "Thanks."

"Not a problem, sir." In some impossible way, it sounded like the AI was smiling as he spoke.

Walking in, Steve nearly slipped and broke his neck on a smushed cake on the floor, there was already a footprint imprinted on the smeared chocolate. Not more then five feet away, Tony lay on his back with one sock missing, chest rising and falling indignantly. He side stepped the muck on the floor and kneeled beside the resting figure on the floor, eyes transfixed on the ceiling. "Looks like _someone_ needs reprogramming." Tony called, getting a sassy radio silence from the AI unit, Steve bit back his laughter, "So, what happened, cake boy?"

Brown eyes moved to stare at him, "Tripped over Dummy, who will be a wine fridge by tomorrow, dropped the cake, slipped on the cake, and now I just wanna lay here." Steve nodded, took his knees out from under him, and laid down beside Tony, folding his arms behind his head. "I'll lay with you." Tony quirked an eyebrow in his direction, Steve, not seeing anything odd about his actions, asked anyway, to be polite, "Do you mind?"

"No, not at all. JARVIS, projection. 12."

The ceiling they had both been staring at morphed from it's dark grey to a brilliant violet swirling with light, misty pinks, the space above them glittered with twinkling stars and the rare shooting star or passing comet, streaking through clusters of stars, trailing it's own bright light behind itself.

"This is nice." Steve smiled contentedly, then noticed Tony sulking.

"I forgot where I threw my chocolate sock."


	7. Dinner is Served

"What's your deal lately?"

Tony snapped his head towards Steve, "What do you mean?"

Scouring his face, Steve found a wry look and amended quietly, "I mean, all this time you've said I'm moody or emotional, but look at what literally _just _happened. I'm pretty sure the last person that angry at him was his father, he's probably never going to eat cake again."

The corners of Steve's mouth were turning up with an arbitrary smile, he didn't think that anything could actually succeed in curbing that man's hunger for anything. Tony's forehead scrunched up, visibly preparing a snarky comeback and faltering as he wondered what the point of that would be. Steve was right, for all intents and purposes, but Tony wasn't in any sort of mood to be putting forth effort and acknowledging it. So, feeling extremely lazy and blissfully comfortable laying on the floor next to Steve, Tony lolled his head to the side and began to tell the truth in his boredest drawl, "We're talking about teenage girls here, but I feel like a middle-aged, stay-at-home mom after her six-year olds birthday party she planned herself, and I need a glass of wine but I'm too lazy to get it.

"Two hours, okay? Two hours shopping for this genius gift downtown, and it was cold as shit today. I basically clear out the whole of my new favorite bakery for everybody else, and all I ask is for one cake for you and me. Just one! I tell Bruce, 'don't let anyone touch. the. blue. box.' and what the fuck does he do? Prances off to find his butt-buddy, leaving said cake out in the open, like a sitting duck for Hungry Hungry Demi-Gods to shove into their fat stubbled maws." He heaved a frustrated sigh at recapping his tantrum, his head rolling to the side to face Steve once more, blue eyes boring softly into his brown ones. Thoughts of following through with the trashing of the scientist's lab dwindling with each second they stared at each other. "Tony.." Steve brought his hand up to brush his fingers through his soft brown hair just like he had done last night, instantly feeling sated and content.

For some reason, lately, any sort of physical contact with Tony comforted him, without so much as being able to pat the genius on the shoulder, he'd feel jittery and out-of-place, even somewhere as familiar as his own room. Tony's eyes fluttered shut, not caring whether his hair was being messed up or even that Steve was petting him as if he were a fat house cat. It felt nice, an affectionate, comforting gesture that, in the back of Tony's mind, made him feel like exactly that, a house cat, he wanted to purr and lean into Steve's hand but in the end, thought better of it.

"I'm sorry your day didn't go how you planned." Eyes opened to look over questioningly at the almost saddened features of the blond before him, a pang in Tony's gut telling him it was _his_ fault Steve looked that way made him wince, "Did I upset you?"

It wouldn't be surprising, he always ended up making someone upset sooner or later. Yes, the whole purpose of everything he did today was to get in the Captain's good favor, to make up for his fumbles the night before, _to make those blue eyes sparkle_. But, those were hopes of a bright-eyed child, and Tony had to realize he was an adult, an adult that never did anything right besides build things, who only understood his building blocks and materials. The Lego-Master.

"No, no. 'Course not. Tony, don't think like that- you did great, your gift was great and- I.. C-can we just, lay here for a little while? Please?" That was all Steve wanted anymore, was just to relax and not think of anything for a while, he just wanted to lay on the floor with Tony and stare at the starry hologram above them. Steve's fingers paused in Tony's hair anxiously, waiting for his response. Tony smiled, "Yeah, alright."

So they did, they layed on the floor of Tony's lab for who knows how long, Steve continued petting his hair, and after a while he forgot he was even doing it anymore. Tony pointed out the different constellations above them, the scene changing every half hour or so, but mostly they enjoyed a silence like that of which they've never shared with anyone before. A comfortable, almost peaceful silence, which allowed the both of them to lose themselves in it, to float along and finally experience a few moments of glorious nothing. Something you only come by a few times in your life and actually enjoy, actually appreciate.

But of course, good things aren't meant to last.

"Man of Iron! Wilst thou speak with me? I come bearing apologies and caffeinated beverages!" Through the shaded glass walls they both saw the large shadow of Thor's fist about to knock on one of the doors, but lowering after a moment. Tony let out a breath, relieved that there wouldn't be shattered glass to clean up.

"I guess!" He called out and stood up with the help of an already vertical Steve, "Thanks."

Tony swiped his finger across one of his tablets on the table beside him and the door hissed open, Thor strode in with his beaming grin and placed a steaming mug on the work table in front of Tony. "I have been informed that this would be an appropriate peace-offering." A hopeful, yet timid smile crossed the demigods face, forcing Steve to suppress a surprised chuckle.

The genius in front of him seemed to have a marvelous poker face, without so much as a muscle twitching he took the cup and brought it to his lips, and before he took a sip he stated, "You have been informed correctly."

Steve clapped his hands together loudly, suddenly feeling he should be gone, doing something, something productive. Like, maybe not being in this room anymore. "Great! Everything's settled! I'll see you fellas later, bye." Then he rushed from the room, feeling the awkward even as he closed the door.

He hadn't felt uncomfortable or anything like that, it was the situation, Thor (intruding) showing up during a relatively blissful moment he had been sharing with Tony Stark. Well, yeah, maybe that was a bit uncomfortable, but he just felt the sudden urge to go and do something. Steve hadn't really done anything these past few days, and he felt useless. Steve hated feeling useless, like he had no purpose. He hated that more than absolutely anything.

There wasn't anything to actually do. Unless he went out and looked for some trouble, but looking for trouble took time, and he needed to be occupied now, Steve checked the clock. It read 6:30, _great_. It would turn out to be the most unsettling time of day, he thought absent mindedly. His stomach rumbled, scolding him for not feeding it sooner, now there was something he could do. Cook dinner.

~o0o~

After rifling through the kitchen to find some semblance of simple cookware that would prove to be large enough to feed everyone in the Tower, Steve stood at the counter and began chopping through a large sack of potatoes while a stew pot boiled water. He figured he'd take the time and cook an honest, simple meal of steak and mashed potatoes. Steve didn't think it polite to only cook for himself, so he took on the tedious task of tenderizing- He couldn't find the tenderizer, so he used his fists.- and marinating twenty sirloin steaks he'd been surprised to find already defrosted in the fridge.

Steve dumped the potatoes in the pot of boiling water, cursing quietly when some splashed back onto his exposed forearm. Should have rolled his sleeves down, he thought in hindsight, putting the empty bowl down and stirring the pot ruefully. There was really no better way to keep yourself from thinking too much than cooking, Steve loved cooking, though his variety of recipes were limited in this new age, he still thought it to be the most calming chore. The steaks were sizzling on the diner-style grittle when he emptied the large pot of potatoes into the strainer in the sink, plumes of hot steam thrust into his face, making him strain his neck away from the heat until the steam faded away. Out of the strainer and into a large metal dinner bowl the potatoes went, Steve checked on the steaks again before grabbing the milk and a large tub of butter from the fridge. He swirled around the kitchen gracefully, grabbing the spices he wanted from various spice racks and cupboards, Steve splashed a generous amount of milk for a fluffed texture and began mashing furiously, then came the butter. Hesitating for a moment about how much butter to put in, Steve shrugged. "There's no such thing as too much butter", he said to himself as he scooped out half the tub of butter into the bowl, then scooping half of what was left of the tub into the bowl as well. Hey, there was a lot of potatoes.

Fluffy, fluffy, fluffy potatoes, they looked downright commercial sitting there, all steaming and buttery. The steaks lay steaming in a pile on a dinner platter in the middle of the set table, his famous mashed potatoes placed next to a bowl of buttered corn. Steve liked butter.

Steve was about to run and go round everyone up, then thought about the dinner he'd just prepared getting cold in the meantime. He looked up thoughtfully at the miniscule camera above the door, "Jarvis?"

"Yes, Mr. Rogers?"

Steve smiled, he'd never talked to a computer before, "Could you tell everyone that dinner is ready?"

"Of course, sir."

Steve nodded, happy with his work, he poured himself a glass of iced tea and left the pitcher on the table in case anyone else wanted any. The dishes he'd made from cooking were done, and after a last-minute call of looking for dinner rolls he was left there to sit and wait for everyone else to join him, it would be rude to start without them.

Tony was, of course, the first one to show up. He came running in with a giant childish grin on his face, "YOU COOKED! Oh my god, you cooked. You're so domestic, I love it!"

"Oh wow, it's true." Natasha followed after, disbelief coloring her pale face.

"What is that delectable aroma?" Thor boomed, eyes instantly fixed on the food laid out. Clint and Bruce came in a few seconds later, sitting down without voicing their shock, which Steve was grateful for. It really wasn't that odd that he'd cooked, was it?

"They're all medium rare, so I don't want to hear any complaining about the pink." Steve stated sternly, standing up to fill his plate. He'd specifically made enough so that everyone could have as much food as they wanted, and Steve knew that they would too. He was a damn good cook, and he didn't need anyone to tell him that.

"Yes sir. Captain, sir." Tony smirked, slapping a steak onto his plate.

They all ate quietly, Steve didn't mind because it wasn't an awkward kind of silence, it was the kind of silence where everyone was too busy shoving their faces to make conversation, and that was the best kind of silence as far as he was concerned. At one point, Clint spoke through a mouthful of potatoes, "My god, did you use the entire tub of butter?"

Steve blushed a little, "No.. Three quarters of it."

Tony cut in, "Worried you'll get fat, Barton?"

"No!" Clint shouted defensively. Bruce, who was sitting next to the archer, gave his side a pinch causing him to jump, "Yep, I can see your love handles already. You should really start working out more." Natasha let out a laugh Steve was sure none of them had ever heard before, well besides Clint, then Thor's booming one overshadowing hers. Steve smiled down at his plate, their camaraderie warming his heart.

"Hey, this one doesn't have to worry about putting on weight, I do. I have priorities." Clint mumbled, Tony shot a kernel of corn at his face, "Then go make a salad and get the fuck outta here."

Clint retaliated with more kernels of corn in Tony's direction, "Hell no, this is fucking delicious."

"Why don't you shut up and eat then?" Steve contributed, earning a grumble from the archer as he turned back to devour the rest of what was on his plate,

"Whatever you say, Paula Deen." Unable to understand the reference, Steve decided to ignore his quip.

After everyone was done, Steve got up and began to put the leftovers into Tupperware containers, Natasha joined him and started clearing the table as everyone else sat and digested, Tony patted his belly and sighed, "You really are trying to make us fat, aren't you?"

Steve smiled without turning, "Not at all, but I'm glad you enjoyed it."

~o0o~

Feeling fat and sleepy, the majority of the Avengers retreated to their rooms to turn in for the night. Steve stayed in the kitchen to finish cleaning up, swatting away Bruce's offer to do the dishes for him, amending with some excuse about how he always preferred to clean up his own messes. He stacked the dishes neatly in the drying rack and wiped down all the surfaces of the kitchen. When he was finished he felt pretty tuckered out, and dragged himself up to his room, turning off each light as he went. But, before he reached the staircase he was pulled into a shadowy corner, exhaustion and surprise prevented him from retaliating, and he let himself be pinned against the wall behind him. A faint blue light between him and his attacker made Steve realize his attacker was Tony, and that he wasn't being attacked at all. Well, of that, he couldn't be quite sure. You could never be sure with Tony.

"Can I help you?" Steve breathed, he didn't want to shatter the quiet in the house by speaking at normal volume.

"I couldn't help but notice, there was no dessert." Tony smirked, his face only visible because of the glow from his arc reactor. Steve hoped his face wasn't as visible, a deep blush blooming across his cheeks, he wasn't dense, he understood the undertones in Tony's words. But decided to play dumb anyways,

"Aren't you full?"

Tony gave a breathy chuckle and leaned in closer, their bodies pressed firmly together now so Steve could feel Tony's heat up against him, when Tony spoke his warm breath caressed Steve's face, "There's always room for you."


End file.
